Minerva
by Crystar500
Summary: An OC female veteran from Greece finds herself as the biggest assassin in the present-day era, after a crippling injury changes her life, for better or worse. Takes place in Los Santos, and goes parallel to The Story of Annabel Kay.


Chaos was what war was. That's what they show you in the movies. I don't need words to describe how different it is once you're in it.

* * *

 _2013 - Greek Operatives on a Peacekeeping Mission in Kosovo_

She coughed heavily, her ears ringing a deafening sound that she couldn't stand. She found herself on the ground in the middle of the field, coughing heavily. She could hear explosions, yelling, and whizzing bullets in the distance. The sounds of wear. Her first instinct was to stand and fight. With a grunt, she attempted to sit up slowly. It was all in vain. She fell right back to where she had been, laying on the ground helplessly. Things were blurry. She could only make a gray-uniformed figure a few feet away, firing rounds at something in the distance. Lucky for her, the man… or woman… it was hard to tell… ran over to her lifeless shell of herself. "Hey! She's alive! Minny's alive!" That's what she struggled to interpret through her impaired hearing. The ringing was just too much.

When she drifted back into consciousness again, she was next to about three other gray-uniformed people in what felt to her like the back of a military van. "Ugh…" She muttered. Her vision was still blurred. The bumpy ride wasn't helping. "Easy Minny." The same voice from earlier said, tapping her shoulder. "You're gonna be… okay. Okay?" He said. The fact he sounded unsure of himself didn't make it any easier. She still didn't know what the hell was going on. She tried to nod, but found herself drifting out of consciousness once again.

When she came to again, she found herself in a hospital bed. Her vision was still slightly blurred, but she could make out some of the people in the room. It was a single nurse with his white uniform near the room's door as he spoke with an older man in a sharply dressed suit. Groaning somewhat, she opened her eyes slowly. The two by the door didn't notice. She took the chance to listen to their conversation. "Her entire left half is torn apart, mister. I'm sure whatever program your money has is incapable of fixing her. She's beyond repair." The nurse said. He sounded very educated and professional. A bit relaxing knowing that she had a good caretaker for whatever state she was in.

The older man, his gray hair slicked back with gel, only smirked at the nurse. He towered over the nurse by what looked like about maybe five inches in height. "You must not know who I am, sir. The only chance she'll be able to be close to normal is with my program. I doubt she'll want to live with a half-charred body." The suited man spoke in an old-fashioned Italian accent.

The nurse seemed somewhat skeptical, but sighed. "I'll give you the paperwork if you're so intent on your experiments, sir." The nurse and the suited man both left the room. She only groaned to express what she felt once the two were gone and the door was shut once again. People were deciding her future for her and she couldn't do anything about it.

It was a long time until she was able to open her eyes to see the world once again. She was still in a hospital from her first impressions of the room she had awoken in. Her entire right half of her body was filled with numbness, as if she had been sitting somewhere too long. The room was a pearly, shiny, white color along the walls, with gold lining around the corners and edges. Around her, the heart readout monitor and other bedside medical equipment was a glossy chrome silver. Directly on the wall across from her was a teal and gold logo, that showed leaves underneath a gold medallion, with teal colored in where there was space. Not the same hospital she was in before, she knew. Once she scanned all this, she realized her vision had returned. She hauled herself up so she was sitting up on the bed. Looking down at herself, she found that she was in a white hospital gown. Her left hand was pale, but her right was as chrome as the equipment around her, and gleamed in the office lights that shined from the ceiling above. "What is happening…?" She said to herself, in a low tone.

As if on cue, a male nurse in a long white lab coat with teal scrubs underneath walked into the room, clipboard in hand. He was an older man, with white hair in a shade as white as the walls around them. "What's happening…" He said casually, walking beside her bed to check the monitor. He scribbled on his clipboard with a chrome ballpoint pen while going on with his explaining. "Is history, Misses Minerva. What is your full name, by the way? We couldn't find it in any of our databases. Most likely because you were in the special forces."

She blinked a few times, but with only her left eye, as she found that the other couldn't blink at all. "Demi Simonides." She replied in stoic fashion, standing still in her spot. She found herself leaning towards the man somewhat, in attempt to see what information the contents of his clipboard contained. "What do you mean history?" She snapped afterwards, with a bit of attitude attached behind it.

"Well, I guess I'll be more clear then. You had an accident. An accident that left you in a terrible condition… very painful to see. Beyond any possible means of repair in a normal hospital." He uttered, barely looking up from his clipboard as he spoke.

She had too many questions to ask at once. Her eyes wandered around the room for where the question she needed would be. "How bad was it?" She asked after a few moments, flipping her head back towards her nurse quickly.

The nurse sighed, as if it was too depressing to explain. "Half your body. Scorched. Like I said, beyond repair."

She let out a long sigh, shutting her functional eye. "Oh God…" She slumped down in the bed, letting out another depressed sigh. "Why didn't they just pull the fucking plug?" She said with a shrug, doing her best to blink back the tears coming to her eye. The emotion was evident in her voice.

"Because… this wonderful company we're both apart of found a new opportunity for you. And they fixed you in the best way possible." The nurse replied, coming across as if the question annoyed him. As if she was supposed to know what she was there for.

"Fixed? How?" She exclaimed, a bit hesitant to find the answer. She sat up once again, jumping up quickly.

"Well… I best let you see for yourself." The nurse answered. With his clipboard still in hand, he swiftly exited the room, leaving his patient to wait. He returned after a few minutes with a red plastic hand mirror that looked like it came from a barber shop.

She took the mirror from him nervously. She held it flat, the backside facing her a moment. She glanced at the nurse with hesitation, to which the nurse only gestured with his hand to encourage her on. She took a long sigh and turned the mirror around slowly to face her. The sight she saw made her clasp her mouth in shock, covering a gasp. "My God…" She whispered underneath her covered mouth.

The nurse ignored her shock. He seemed to have finished his clipboard work, and began walking out of the room without any further words. "The man who arranged all of this should be here soon to see you." He added, without even turning around to see her again before shutting the room's door.

She had ignored him herself. She couldn't hold back the tears now. She shut her good eye, and let them come forth. She let the mirror slip out of her hand and fall onto her lap. It was unbelievable and impossible for her to have become this way. She didn't believe it. It wasn't real! She'd wake up any minute now and feel stupid for panicking from this nightmare. Technology of this caliber only existed within cheap A-List celebrity movies from Vinewood.

About an hour or so later, she found herself still sobbing from it all. Amidst her blubbering, she hadn't noticed the suited, grayed, elder man letting himself into her room. The man slammed the door to her room behind him as he stepped inside. This, in particular, got her attention. Slamming doors was something she found as a maker of statements. He stood at the end of her bed a moment, looking at her condition, as if wondering if the operation kept her intact. He then simply placed himself on the black folding chair in the right corner of the room, about two feet away from the bed. "How do you feel?" He uttered.

Normally, Minerva would've been disrespected by such a question. Only due to the fact it did not have an introduction or little more than a "hello" prior to it. In this situation, however, she knew this man had to do with her condition, and choking him to death in his seat wouldn't give her answers. "What do you think?" She snapped at him. Her Greek accent was faded, not as heavy as it was when she was young. She almost sounded American now. It was a goal for the special forces to make her accent different, rather than give away to the enemy her country of origin.

The elder man sighed and rested his back in the seat with a grunt, giving the indication that he suffered from a nagging back problem. He adjusted his neck somewhat before smiling and looking at her. He seemed to deter from his calm demeanor for a moment when Minerva turned to look him in the eye. Who could blame him? Even the most corporate, professional, or unemotional individual would've reacted negatively to what Minerva now was. "I think you'll get over it eventually. You have to, in fact. You've been reassigned." The older man spoke in what Minerva deemed the stereotypical Italian accent. She pieced together and assumed that this must be indeed the man she saw when waking earlier.

Minerva turned her head away and looked down at her lap. She sniffed, gathering herself after all the tears she shed. "I don't suppose it's a desk job." She pulled herself to say, her voice cracking noticeable, which her ego wasn't taking a liking to.

The man nodded, as if soaking in what she said. "No, not at all. Much more exciting than that." He was very casual in both his demeanor and posture, which unnerved even Minerva, who was very resistant to forms of intimidation in the past.

"What is it then? What machine are you going to hook me up to next? I'm half machine anyway! Just connect me to one of your factory lines in China, then? What makes you think that I'll be fine living like this!" She rattled off in a rant, spitting her words in pent-up frustration at the unfazed suited man in the chair.

Ignoring her, the man finally introduced himself, adjusted his collar as he spoke. It's not like Minerva cared how he looked, and she was sure he didn't either. He was either nervous, or perhaps had a habit of tie adjusting, from what she could tell. "My name is Piero Monti and I am the president of the Mediterranean United Corporation." He stated, waiting for her answer. The only answers she would've given remained in her head. The word Mediterranean included her home country, which worried her, since she had never heard of this company prior. She crossed her arms and looked away. The man just went on after the brief pause. "We have jurisdiction in more things than you could probably imagine."

"What, like the soda machines you built in the waiting room of this place?" She wouldn't have any of it, and pouted in defiance, her arms remaining cross. It'd take convincing to get her to buy into this series of events, and the man knew it.

"The guns that are shipped around both the Middle East and Europe. The factories and drug deals within Los Santos. The turnstiles of the Liberty City subway system. Many of the young businessmen of America." He rattled off the few examples. "We're the ones who protect the Prime Minster of England, and Vatican City itself." He said with a smile.

Minerva had raised her eyebrows, growing increasingly convinced of this single man's powerful grasp on the world by each example. "What do you want with me then?" She asked, lifting her head to look at him in the eyes. The same moment of intimidation upon her gaze occurred once again. Her voice spoke softly now, happy with what she was hearing to a point.

The man smiled, pleased that his resume was suitable enough for her to have a change of heart. "I funded your operation when I found out about your injury on the frontlines. We know your history, and we know the things we've accomplished. Greek medal of honor. Medal of heroism. Most accurate sniper on the unit, while still being very capable of handling other weapons. It saddened us grately to hear about your condition."

"What was my condition anyway?" She replied.

"Either live with a permanently scarred side of your body, with constant pain… or pull the plug. We saw different, especially with the experimental technology." The man gave a shrug.

"Let me get this straight." She nodded, holding up a finger to signal she needed a moment. The man sat up in his seat, ready to hear what she had to say. "I would've lived life in pain from a freak injury, that I may have died from eventually anyway, so you and your company decided to try using your technology to give me a second chance at life." She said, smiling afterwards.

"Precisely." The man gave a nod, returning the smile.

She looked down a moment before looking back up at him. "Well, mister. I'm indebted to you then. Part of me wishes you pulled the plug, but I'm at least half-rational. I'll give it a chance." She held up her hands, pulling her fingers into her palm a few times on both hands, looking at the difference between bare skin and silver metal.

"You are indebted, actually. We picked you out for a reason." The man gave a grunt as he got out of his seat, walking on over to the door, turning to her for the answer before he made his exit.

"What do you want me to do?" She asked, falling back down to where she was laying back, her head resting against the unusually comfortable hospital bed pillow, while eyeing the man with a curious look.

"What you always did." He said with a grin. "But you're much more well equipped this time around. Rest a bit. We'll get started soon." He nodded, waving a hand dismissively as he swung upon the room door.

"Sign me right up. I'm ready." She replied. She hadn't the slightest of a clue what had gotten to her and convinced her to be this willing to work for the man's company, but her ego wanted no part of being indebted, so it wasn't a difficult decision for her.

The man hadn't the need to answer, for the confident look she gave from her humane eye, and the eye of clear, fiery, orange light, gave him enough indication that he had just completed the construction of his greatest employee.


End file.
